


Of Crimson Dreams and Golden Nightmares

by MouserFluff, ZephyrLegend



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Gen, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Star Wars: The Last Jedi Spoilers, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-20 07:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13141692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MouserFluff/pseuds/MouserFluff, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZephyrLegend/pseuds/ZephyrLegend
Summary: *SUMMARY MAY CONTAIN SOILERS FOR THE LAST JEDI*"And let there be no doubt, as you willingly swore yourself to my cause, even with the nefarious intention to tear apart my ranks from the bottom, you fall under my own laws. So, you see, that puts me in an interesting position.” He looked straight at the traitor, his eyes cold and dark. “What should I do with you?”Four years after the events of The Last Jedi, the burden of ruling lies heavily on the shoulders of Kylo Ren. The force sees fit to send him careening back into the arms of destiny when FN-2187 is found amongst his ranks.





	1. Heavy Lies the Crown

**Author's Note:**

> Our thanks to the lovely MissFable for being our Beta and our perfect distraction during the writing process. *smooches*

The color red pervaded his dreams for as long as he could remember. The color of fire, the color of blood, the color of his saber as he struck down his enemies. But ever since those days so long ago, after he killed his father, the color red in his dreams expanded to include flashes of the Praetorian guard’s armor, the mineral encrusted salt of that force forsaken planet, the rosy tint to her cheeks after a fight….

 

For every regret he holds in his heart, that he wields to power the dark side, none have stayed as raw and sore as the regret he holds for uttering the words “I'll destroy her” in a moment of reckless rage. 

 

His dreams were stained by the color, by the deep splashes of crimson red that characterized those few days. In some dreams she survives, takes his hand, and they lead the galaxy together into a new age through rose tinted glasses. In others, his hand is not fast enough, he cannot trick Snoke, and his saber slices through the air, coppery and slick, striking down the one which was his ally.

 

_ Rey _ . He could still feel a whisper of her presence in his mind, sometimes. 

 

The dreams where he strikes her down with his crackling saber he could feel, somewhere deep inside him, Ben Solo screaming in agony. He wakes from those in a cold sweat, heart pounding, his eyes rapidly searching the room for her, desperately clawing into the force around him, to tell him he’s not alone, that it was only a dream, that she still yet survives.

 

_ Force _ , what had this girl done to him in those few, terrible, short days?

 

He hates how he looks for her, in every glossy surface on his flagship, the  _ Ascendancy,  _ and there were many. Black and cold and shining a reflection of the scar she had given him. But still, she did not appear.

 

He had not seen her face since the dust settled on Battle of Crait. Since those dice weighed heavily in his hands, on his heart-  _ He remembered playing with them as a child, why were they there, what had been meant by leaving them? _ \- Since she and the Resistance had slipped through his fingers, like smoke and shadows. She had not appeared to him since she had slammed the hatch shut on their connection. It had been years, now. 

 

_ Years _ . Such a long time to be alone, and yet, he had been alone for far longer than this. It was nothing new to Kylo Ren. 

 

_ It was nothing new to Ben Solo either _ , weeped a hidden part of his soul. But it had been a new experience to feel anything other than unfathomable loneliness. Like an oasis in the middle of a desert planet, she had sprung up, all life and hope and light, but then, as he is wont to do, he had crushed it.

 

_ Kill it if you have to _ .

 

He blinked awake to the beeping of his alarm echoing in his quarters, “dawn” onboard as artificial as the environment, cold and unyielding. He didn’t lounge in bed, though some mornings he wished he could- some mornings he woke from the dreams that felt warm to the touch, light, full of  _ her _ . It was not one of those mornings.

 

He shied away from looking into his own eyes in the mirror as he shaved off the light stubble of overnight growth. He showered, dressed, and left his rooms, with hardly a thought as to what his day would contain. As if it would be any different than the day before, or the day before. 

 

First he went to the bridge. Commander Sartori began giving him a simple rundown of the ship, handing over the datapad with reports- heading and bearing, hyperspace routes, general ship conditions, duty rosters. 

 

“All systems nominal, Supreme Leader,” came the usual clipped report from the Commander. Kylo simply nodded, returned the datapad to the Commander’s hands, turned on his heel and stalked from the bridge. There was no need to linger- he had nothing but trust in the officers he had selected.

 

He returned to his office, finding a simple meal already prepared on his desk. Nothing so ostentatious as his predecessor might have demanded. The habit of austerity was one he never saw a point in breaking. He ate with a grim efficiency, and turned to the datapad on his desk.

 

He flicked through the entries containing his schedule and reviewed the reports marked as high  priority: intel reports stating Hux’s fleet was spotted somewhere near the Ieoclite system, the union dispute on planet Lorrd had been quelled and cleanup operations are now taking place, the newest batch of stormtrooper recruits have graduated from basic training and now require his approval for placement in the suggested divisions, scattered reports of stormtrooper uprisings in the various factions of the splintered first order-  _ but not his,  _ he remarked to himself dryly _. _

 

He took a moment to consider that fact. Despite all the friction he’d encountered during his transition to power, he’d never worried about the loyalty of his ‘troopers. He sighed heavily and gripped the bridge of his nose.  _ Thank the force for small miracles. _

 

Some had even gone so far as to mark their armor with a deep red cross modelled after his crossguard saber; The Mark of Ren, they called it: A symbol of their loyalty. He found the exercise unnecessary, but he didn't begrudge them in their efforts. It was a visible reminder that the planets under his purview, while initially chafing under his rule, had learned to accept him. 

 

Even the union disputes had gone rather well. He had settled to some of their demands, better living conditions, freedom to travel, and others he had stayed firm on. He was really very proud of that, and for a moment the thought crossed his mind that his mother would beam.

 

That gave him pause. Leia Organa, the woman, the parent he could not bring himself to kill. She was still alive, of course, despite what had seemed like all evidence to the contrary.  _ Would she be proud? _ He scowled at the thought. It didn’t matter. She chose her path, and he had chosen his. 

 

He forcibly pushed those thoughts from his mind and returned to the task at hand. He looked at his schedule: a holoconference with the governor of the Sebrichi system regarding the annexation of one of its moons, a meeting with the counsel of the Sienus sector regarding the taxation of trade routes, a meeting with General Trobona to discuss the latest intelligence reports coming from the disputed border...

 

Weariness washed over him, as it had many times over the last few years. What in the force had possessed him to seize power as he had? He was a warrior. He had dreamed of glory and conquest in the name of order and peace, but he had been fighting for so long that he wasn't sure what he'd do with it once it was achieved. The familiar, bitter ache of loneliness twisted in his chest. 

 

Maybe he should take an apprentice?

 

_ You need a teacher! I can show you the ways of the force! -  _ He slammed the door shut on those memories. He wasn't ready to face them just yet. 

 

The force swirled around him, cool and smooth, the eddies whispering to him as it had done since before he could remember. He could pluck at the strings and create a symphony if he so desired; such was his connection to the force. The calm whispers usually promised another day of monotony. Of stagnancy. 

 

But not today. Suddenly, the force began to shimmer around him, the whispers began humming, twisting with life, deep indigo threads buzzing into a golden hue. Anticipation roiled low in his gut. He knows what this means. Something was going to happen today, something unexpected. The force was seeing fit to send him careening back into the arms of destiny. He hasn't felt like this since…

 

Since boarding a command shuttle to descend to the surface of Jakku, to confront Lor San Tekka about the map. So long ago...

 

He took a deep shuddering breath. He didn't realize he was holding it until his holocomm flickered to life, with the naked face of his most trusted officer, Lieutenant Colonel Ara Marquise.

 

“Supreme Leader, we have apprehended a Rebel spy. We believe he may be trying to incite rebellion into our ranks. This is a situation you should personally oversee, sir.”

 

“Bring him to me.” Kylo responded, stopping himself from rubbing his temples, at least in front of Lieutenant Marquise. His voice cracked, raw.  _ When was the last time he had spoken aloud? _ He shut off the holocomm and resisted the urge to throw it across the room.  _ Force _ , he had a very bad feeling about this.

 

He flexed his gloved hand, leather creaking with the strain of his fist. He didn’t want to know who would be on the other side of that door when he opened it. Would it be that  _ kriffing _ pilot, Dameron? No, he was too much of a flyboy. It was unlikely that he would be sent for a infiltration mission. Intel reports suggested that in their near destruction, Dameron had risen become one of the Rebellion’s highest leaders. Besides, Kylo had given him painful memories, the kind of which should have warned him to stay far away from the First Order’s Supreme Leader. 

 

No, there was only one member of the Rebellion that had the training, the knowledge, and the karking stupidity to rejoin his stormtroopers.

 

_ FN-2187 _ . Kylo sighed, leaning back slightly in his chair. One would think he would learn, eventually. He was a traitor, and ought to be executed, despite his own order outlawing the use of capital punishment. Third time was indeed the charm, it seemed. Kylo reached for his holocomm, about to call Marquise back and order her to simply kill him, when he hesitated.

 

He was her friend.  _ Her _ friend. 

 

_ Rey. _

 

He took a sharp intake of breath, feeling it hitch somewhere near his heart.  _ Oh yes _ . He could feel the Force around him, the flow of it caressing him with shimmering golden threads. When he closed his eyes, he could see her delicate face twisted in fierce disappointment. To him, she was always wrapped in golden thread woven from the sweetness of her soul. He groaned, slamming his fist onto his desk.

 

He couldn’t simply kill him, no. She would find out and know it was he who had ordered it. As much as he wanted to kill the traitor, neither would it present a good example to his men. So many of them had given him their vow of loyalty, a true vow, that they didn’t need the public execution of a deserter to compel them to stay. Nevermind that it was their loyalty which had made the attempt at insurrection painfully obvious to all but the traitor.

 

He could torture him, and then set him free. Or just lock him up and throw away the key.

 

But the force hummed at him the wrongness of those choices. Perhaps he would wait and see what options presented themselves when he came face-to-face with the traitor. Not that Kylo truly blamed him for chafing under the rule of Hux and Snoke, and finally turning coat. He had felt much the same in those days. 

 

_ Well _ , he thought to himself,  _ may as well get this over with _ . He rose from his desk and moved through his chambers towards the adjoined meeting room. Placing himself behind the seat at the head of the table, he waited impatiently for Lieutenant Marquise to arrive. He clasped his hands behind his back to still his nervous twitching, his jaw showing the only outward sign of his disquiet, locked in a tight line on his face.

 

Almost before he could mentally prepare himself, the doors opened, admitting the Lieutenant and the traitor bound in cuffs. FN-2187 seemed almost dazed, and it wasn't until he looked around the room and took him in that his eyes widened almost comically, and his shoulders tightened. What had been a determined defiance was supplanted by a fear that oozed out of him into the surrounding force.

 

Smugness replaced irritation in Kylo Ren.  _ Good _ , he smirked inwardly,  _ you ought to be afraid. _

 

“FN-2187,” he let his low baritone draw out the syllables, “We meet again.”

 

The traitors eyes hardened, an imperceptible shift that might have served to trick him into thinking there was never fear in the first place, if not for the force. 

 

Kylo turned to Lieutenant Marquise, “Report.”

 

“The spy was found attempting to sow discord among the ranks. It was remarked upon as being unusual by his direct superior in addition to his squadmates. He was assigned to this ship through the fast-track program on planet Lechurn and was given the operating number GQ-4939. It was only after cross referencing his information that we discovered his true status as a defector and known Rebellion collaborator.”

 

He nodded imperiously in her direction and turned back to the traitor.

 

“You are lucky, FN-2187. Had you been discovered in Hux’s camp, you would have already been executed.”

 

The traitor gulped at that.

 

“But, as it happens,” Kylo took a slow breath in, “I have outlawed the use of capital punishment within my ranks. And let there be no doubt, as you willingly swore yourself to my cause, even with the nefarious intention to tear apart my ranks from the bottom, you fall under my own laws. So, you see, that puts me in an interesting position.” He looked straight at the traitor, his eyes cold and dark. “What should I do with you?”

 

“Finn,” was the quiet yet, resolute response. “My name is Finn.”

 

Kylo sniffed disdainfully, as if he didn't know a thing or two about choosing one’s own name. “Put him in the brig.” He nodded to the guards flanking the door. “Lieutenant, stay.”

 

Once the traitor had been removed from his presence he was left alone with Lieutenant Marquise. He let out a frustrated sigh, and turned to stare at the pinpricked void beyond the porthole. 

 

“You had a reason for bringing this to my attention directly, and it was not to satisfy the correct justice. The laws are quite clear in this matter. Explain.” He barked, but it was merely a formality.

 

“If I may, sir, I believe we can use him.” 

 

He frowned, “How?”

 

“We give him the appropriate intel, send him in the direction of Hux’s fleet, and we allow him to do what he wanted to do.” Her shoulders tweaked as if she thought to shrug, but considered the action distasteful, “Our goals are aligned with the rebellion, in this case, sir.”

 

He considered that for a moment. “It's not a bad plan. I truly do not wish to detain him, nor do I wish to return him to the Rebellion.”

 

“I understand your reservations, sir. That is why I brought the matter to you.”

 

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” He turned to face her, “Enact your plan. I leave this in your capable hands.”

 

She recognized the dismissal and gave him a perfunctory salute, cognizant of proper decorum, as always. She briskly exited the meeting room, leaving him alone. He returned his gaze to the porthole, wondering what the force had in store for him now. 

 

He doubted that this was the conclusion of the matter, only the beginning. The Force bit at  him in a mocking jeer, with his notion that it would be so easy. 


	2. The Dread of Vanished Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from 'The Dream' by Lord Byron.
> 
> Many thanks to our beta readers, MissFable and Mx. Fluff.

Gold.

 

The color of her saber, the color of the windswept sands of Jakku, the color of the sun, a torrential rain of sunbeams pouring down heat on her tiny AT-AT home.

 

The color, that metallic hue of yellow, stayed with Rey, even in dreams. It had been like that her whole life, but now, the color meant...more. It was the color of Snoke's robe when he tortured her, it was the color of the twin suns setting over Luke Skywalker's home on Ahch-To, it was the color of the falling embers when Ben had been buried under the darkness of Kylo Ren…

 

It had been years now, over four, and she tried not to count the days as she might once have - _ scritch, scratch. Marks on steel plating, how many thousands did she waste away alone _ \- how many days since she had closed the bond to him? How many days since she had realized she didn't want to be alone anymore? How many days since the Rebellion had nearly died on the surface of that salt planet? She didn't want to count the days, but she did; the number etched somewhere next to her heart, just as she once did back on Jakku. 

 

Waiting for a family that would never come. They were nobody, and they were never coming back for her. The hope of a child, a foolish hope. 

 

But now, she still counted the days. What she waited for… what she waited for she knew could never come, would never happen. Waited for a man that was all but gone. A dictator that she could never see leaving his post, not with all that power…

 

Absolute power always, always corrupts absolutely.

 

_ The hope of a child, a foolish hope. _

 

The First Order, of course, had splintered. Perhaps the best thing to have ever happened to the Rebellion was Kylo's rise to power and the subsequent fracturing. Only the might of Snoke had been enough to wrangle the power hungry dogs into one cohesive unit. General Hux ruthlessly chased after the Rebellion, while the older, wiser generals were happy to sit back and watch him burn himself out; they made plans to take him over when that happened. Kylo Ren sat upon his throne, happy to be Supreme Leader and have people bow to his name. He was, according to all intel, the one losing the most ground to Hux, and ostensibly the weakest. Rey hated to think of how that must have enraged him.

 

She tried not to think of him as Ben Solo, not anymore. He’d had a choice, and he had chosen Kylo Ren.

 

But her dreams haunted her with his face, illuminated by falling embers, by a fire burning in the hearth, by the reflection in his master's golden robes. With the golden glow that she knew was somewhere within his heart, that she had seen behind his eyes. Or had been. She refused to open their bond to find out, knowing that if it was not there, it would break her.

 

As it was, she might as well have been broken.

 

Her nights brought her sleeplessness, insomnia, anxiety. At first it seemed well justified- the Rebellion had nowhere to go, with no allies to help them. They were as alone as she was. Some part of her relished in that fact. But then they had found Snara II, and the Clinegeth, suddenly they weren't homeless, and they were no longer alone. Uprisings, smaller and more varied, began popping up across the galaxy. The Rebellion had more help than the few people left knew what to do with. But then they had settled, and she hadn't.

 

Of course, she had stayed with them. She was practically a burr in Finn's side. But then he had his missions, and Rose, and she was left alone. Though she was surrounded by people almost every day, it felt more lonely than all her time back on Jakku. No one...understood her. No one understood how she felt, about him, or about the Rebellion. Or about what had happened- that she had stood side by side with her enemy and nothing could take that away. That she might have developed feelings for him, good feelings, in that short time they were together.

 

Sometimes her nightmares presented her with a flipped slate; She was the dark one, and he was the light, and she had to murder him. And every time, she did, even when her arms screamed in pain at the movement, even when her mind shouted 'No!', even when she woke up, breathing fast and illuminating the tiny bunk room on the Falcon with her glowing golden saber, grasping fruitlessly out into the Force for him by instinct only. At those times, she nearly found herself opening the bond back up, just to make sure it had only been a dream, but every time, she stopped.

 

She didn’t want to know what she might find. 

 

Regardless of whether she had slept or not, she would always find herself getting out of bed early in the morning to start training: meditation, then forms. Her morning routine had not changed in the past four years, except perhaps the location: The Falcon was the first place, tiny, cramped with 30 people forced inside. Then Snara II, hot and humid and jungle all green around her. Then finally the Falcon again, no longer quite as cramped and about as close to home as anything else.   
  
She only turned her saber on when she absolutely had to. She feared it, in some respects. Cobbled together and made with the broken kyber crystal of Luke's former saber, it resembled the original in passing only. She’d had to learn how to make her own saber based on the Jedi texts alone; it was much more difficult than it had seemed.

 

Crackling and spitting, not unlike  _ his _ saber, she understood that the cracked kyber crystal was to blame for the phenomenon. The texts were clear that it was inadvisable to use a cracked crystal, because of the instability of the energy output. She had chosen to release the excess energy by creating her saber to be more like her staff, with a blade at each end. It took all of her mechanical prowess to recreate something useful from its broken pieces. She had spent a great deal of her life making things from broken pieces, after all.

 

But not the least of the changes to the saber after its reconstruction was in the color: a vibrant shade of amber, almost gold. If she took the words from the ancient books at their face, the color change was due to the force inside of her affecting the kyber crystal. She had never felt so intimately connected to a piece of machinery that she had built, as though her own heart beat within the blade. The kyber accepted her as she was, with no reservation. The exercise of feeling the kyber had soothed the frayed edges of her heart after the events where Rebellion had nearly been destroyed.

 

Today, she moved through the forms with ease, leaving her saber against her belt as she worked with her staff. Each movement was fluid- forms had always come easy to her, even before she knew what she was doing. Rey was tactile, and created a dance from nothing. In that, she discovered, she was also good at creating something from nothing.

 

As she moved, a swift downward stroke, a side step, a quick movement to bring it back up as if to block an unseen enemy, she felt the force wrap her in what she considered the closest approximation to a mother's embrace. Warm and loving, tightly woven bands of gold whispering to her soothing words in a language she couldn't parse, but understood the meaning of all the same. 

 

Then, as if something had shifted, the whispers began buzzing furiously and she nearly shuddered to a stop trying to dissect the change in cadence. The warm bands gently unraveled and twisted furiously into a bright crimson. The sudden change was foreign, anticipation threading into her chest, the voices on the wind promising that something was going to happen. She had a bad feeling about this.

 

There was a knock, metal against metal, on the outer frame and then footsteps climbing up the ramp. Rey paused, but did not turn away from her work. Obviously if it was important, they knew where in the ship to find her. She could sense that this person held a sense of clipped professionalism, but it was tinged with nervous uncertainty. A messenger with news she may not like, she determined. She waited. 

 

“Jedi Rey,” the messenger said as he stepped into the commons area. Her face curled into a small frown at the incorrect title; she wasn't truly a Jedi by any means. 

 

“The General requests your presence in the meeting room.” He continued. Rey sighed. 

 

“Alright. Now?” The messenger nodded, turning on his heel and leaving the ship. Rey hurried to catch up.

 

There was only one General on base, at the moment. Leia. Rey headed towards the central meeting room, passing the few guards on the way without even a smile. They never smiled back, even when she would greet them, and at some point, Rey had given up. Like she had with many of the people on base.

 

There were only a few Rebellion members in the room when she got there, Poe and a few members of command she had seen occasionally. Leia smiled up at her from a computer, waving her closer. She held a small holo in her hand, and when she had crossed the room, the General turned it on.

 

“Finn!” Rey exclaimed, a true, honest to goodness grin breaking out on her face at the sight of the former stormtrooper. When he didn’t smile back, Rey realized it was a recording.

 

“General, my mission here is- well, it’s a bust. They found me out almost immediately. Ren’s troops are very loyal to him, that’s for sure. They- they brought me before him right away and I thought I was done for. But he let me go! General, I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but something has changed.” Rey gasped at the revelation.

 

“Anyways, he’s released me, on the condition that I go to Hux’s faction and conduct my mission there. They offered me transportation, intel and a way in. I'm not sure what to think. So, I suppose this is an update, and a request for further orders. Ren’s probably listening in.”

 

Leia nodded, shutting off the hologram and setting the receiver on the desk. “I’ve given him new orders, to reflect his changing circumstances. He’s to go to Hux and attempt a ‘trooper rebellion there. But, that’s hardly the interesting thing.” Leia looked up at her, dark eyes narrowing. “Why would Ren let him go?”

 

“Perhaps he thinks Finn would lead them to us?” Rey replied hesitantly.

 

The General shook her head. “If he thought that, he wouldn’t have sent him straight to Hux. No, something has changed.” She sighed. “But what?”

 

“It's no secret that Hux and Ren fight like angry loth-cats.” Poe joined in, “Of the First Order factions, they fight the most. Maybe he saw it as an opportunity to destabilize Hux’s command structure without risking one of his own.”

 

“That makes the most sense,” Leia conceded, “But we have been operating under a lot of ‘what ifs’ and guesses when it comes to Ren’s faction. By all accounts, they are the most insular. Embedding spies has been difficult and has been met with mixed results, at best. Getting Rebellion supporters from any of the planets under his jurisdiction has been like wrangling an angry bantha.”

 

“It seems strange,” Rey chimed in, “The last time they encountered each other, he seemed to have a personal vendetta against Finn. Finn was right, something  _ has _ changed.”

 

Poe sighed at the reminder of Finn’s injuries from Starkiller, “Good news: Finn is fine. Let's not look a gift fathier in the mouth. Even if it gives us more questions than answers.”

 

Leia gave a wry grin, “Yes, this is good news. We’ll continue to monitor Finn on his continuing mission. Let's hope Hux doesn't catch him.” She nodded to the remaining members in the room. “Dismissed.”

 

Rey headed back to the Falcon, her walk a blur to her mind. Kylo Ren had not only spared Finn’s life, but let him go? It seemed- well, she’d already said it, it was strange. What in R’iia’s name had changed? She didn’t have an answer to that, but perhaps, she might know how to get one.

 

It might just be time to open the bond again.

 

Rey sighed, falling back onto the couch on board the ship. The bond. She had kept it closed off, her walls up, since Crait. No one in the Rebellion knew, and she had no plans to tell anyone. Of course, it had the side effect of making her feel alone again, but so what? Loneliness was her oldest friend.

 

Of course, now she had tasted what it was like to not feel alone. She wasn't sure if that was worse.

 

She had realized, some time ago, that in that moment she had asked too much of him. Of course he didn’t take her offer- give up everything he’d ever known to become a war criminal? To help the cause he had felt his parents abandoned him for? No, he never would have taken that offer. Just as she never would have taken him up on his. Become a dictator? No, that was too much as well. They had each asked impossible things of each other, and she hoped he had realized it as well.

 

There was only one way to find out. She had to talk to him. She had to open that bond. There was no running from it any longer. She stood in the center of the common area, closed her eyes and opened her soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying this so far, please leave a kudos or comment!


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